Mornings After
by Mrs. Bonner
Summary: A series of pieces set the morning after each S4 episode takes place.  No slash.
1. Episode 1: The Darkest Hour Part 1

Mornings After

Series 4 Episode 1 – The Darkest Hour Part 1

Dawn arrived as Arthur stared in absolute horror at Merlin's frozen face. His knees buckled and he fell more than knelt beside him. "No."

"Merlin!" Gwaine and Lancelot were searching for signs of life and finding none. They were afraid to move head or limbs – afraid to do further damage to their friend's frozen, brittle form. Their inaction made them, too, seem frozen. Like all the others, Merlin had fallen victim to the Doracha, and he was dead.

Arthur could hardly bear the agony that stabbed through him. He never wept over the fallen. He tried to find the cold place that steadied him in his worst moments and prevented weeping, but that door was frozen shut, and there was no refuge. "Merlin," he whispered.

All of the rest of them sank to the ground then: Percival, Elyan, Gwaine and Lance. They leaned against ancient stone and rested their exhausted, grief-stricken frames. No one spoke for a full ten minutes.

Daylight crept into the room, making everything look different. Arthur felt concussed and numb. He looked over to where Merlin's lifeless body lay, and was flooded with sorrow anew.

It was then that Merlin convulsed slightly.

"Merlin?" Arthur was beside him in an instant. "You're breathing. Merlin!" The servant did not respond. Arthur scanned the room as the knights drew near. "Gwaine, get blankets from the saddle bags. Leon, Lance, find firewood and get that fire burning again. We've got to get him warm!"

Percival helped Arthur carry the unconscious servant up the steps to the courtyard. Elyan warmed water and made tea while the others positioned Merlin near the fire and wrapped him in blankets.

Arthur never left his side and watched vigilantly for signs of improvement. They came slowly.

"There's surely someone watching over me," said Arthur quietly, when the other knights had stepped out of earshot. He again found himself wiping his eyes. "I've felt that way for a long time. It's the only way possible that you're still alive." Merlin had opened his eyes but seemed to be having great difficulty focusing. Arthur's heart swelled at this progress. He began rubbing his friend's arms to improve the circulation. "Someone is watching over me and kept you from dying. I'm certain of it. Do you think... it could be my mother?" Merlin didn't answer, but Arthur hadn't expected him to.

Arthur scanned the courtyard, thinking. It was cold. Rain threatened to fall at any moment. Merlin needed to be taken home as soon as possible. He needed warmth and good food and rest. Before anything else, Arthur intended to see that he had them.

Lancelot approached and covered Merlin with a newly warmed blanket. Arthur rose and walked a few paces to speak with Leon.

"We have to take him to Gaius..."


	2. Episode 2: The Darkest Hour Part 2

Mornings After

Series 4, Episode 2: The Darkest Hour Part 2

Drea knew.

By the morning after the pyre had been burned for Sir Lancelot, Drea had learned Camelot's deepest secrets. This was quite a feat for a frightened, grieving girl who, only nine days prior, had lost her family and everyone dear to her.

Perhaps it was the depth of her pain that made her notice so quickly things that all others seemed to miss. Or perhaps it was because she had magic, although she was not aware of it. When Drea looked into someone's eyes or listened to their voice, she just knew things about them. She had learned long ago to hide this. The people back home had called her intuitive. The people back home had been right.

The day after the attack on her village, Drea had been found and brought to the castle to tell Prince Arthur what she knew of the monsters that had shattered her life. Afterward, she had been placed in the care of a lady called Guinevere. She had been offered a place in the castle household and was promised food, shelter, work and a future here if she wanted it. Drea had been obliged to stay, at least for a little while, as she sorted out the waking nightmare that had become her life. Lady Guinevere had insisted on keeping her near in the days that followed, and Drea knew that the older woman understood her pain and would help. For this, Drea was grateful.

Most of the people at Camelot castle were kind to her, including Lord Agravaine. She encountered him as he stopped in to speak with Guinevere. The man smiled pleasantly and seemed very affable, but Drea sensed something thick and dark in his voice. If she had been more familiar with magic she might have recognized Morgana's enchantment for what it was, but instead just felt violently repelled. She knew with certainty that he was two-faced and dangerous – and that he frightened her.

After the Prince and knights had returned, Lady Guinevere had been shattered. Drea knew this, but at first could not understand why. It had something to do with the knight called Lancelot, who had died on the journey. It took time for Drea to piece together that the lady somehow felt she had sent Sir Lancelot to his death and was overwhelmed with regret.

The day following the prince's return, there had been a funeral pyre burned in honor of Sir Lancelot. Lady Guinevere had stood outside alone by the pyre for hours, after all others retired, causing a great deal of gossip within the castle household. Scandalous things were said about the lady and her interaction with the prince and several of the knights. And there were whispers about Guinevere paying night visits to Agravaine's chambers. To Drea it was obvious that this talk was all rot. But she also somehow knew Guinevere had loved Lancelot. His death for her was a terrible blow, and Drea could not imagine a way to offer comfort. That evening they had sat side by side as night fell, silently looking out of the window, both weeping soundless tears.

It was that night that Drea realized that she must rise up and try to make a life for herself. She missed her family pitifully, but others were hurting too. It was time to unburden Guinevere by trying to take some responsibility for her own survival. She promised herself that in the morning she would get up early and report for work to the housekeeper.

And that was how she learned about Merlin.

The following morning, Drea had acquired a broom and the assignment to tidy the upper hallways. She discovered that these halls connected with a number of small workrooms that also desperately needed sweeping, and she applied herself to the vigorous labor. She had been sweeping a particular workroom for several minutes before she suddenly realized that the room was not empty. A man was sitting at a workbench in the corner, apparently cleaning chain mail, but actually sleeping.

Drea paused and eyed him curiously. He was in his mid-twenties, dark hair, not richly dressed. He looked capable but exhausted. He looked as sad as Lady Guinevere, but more resigned. She wondered who he was.

Suddenly a scrub-brush slipped out of the man's hand and clattered to to floor, and he slowly opened his eyes and looked up.

It took Drea a moment to find her voice. "Oh, excuse me," she said. "Is it alright if I sweep in here?"

The man gave her a kind, tired, slightly embarrassed, smile. "Of course," he said. "Don't mind me."

That was all that was said. Drea tried to give him a smile back and managed a little one. Then she returned to her sweeping, and the man picked up the brush and resumed his work.

She observed him for a while without looking at him, and it was then that her insight told her that he had magic. She could see it – not with her eyes – a bit like light gathering in the part of the room where he sat. She didn't know what it meant, exactly. She simply knew a few undeniable things about him. He was kind. He was sad. He had magic. And he carried many heavy secrets. So many that the knowledge filled her with sympathy.


	3. Episode 4: Aithusa

Mornings After

A series of pieces set the morning after each S4 episode takes place.

S4 E4

Merlin opened Arthur's door as quietly as possible. The king still slept. And because Merlin was feeling particularly guilty for a number of reasons, he preferred on this occasion to avoid waking his friend and employer. He set down the breakfast tray he carried and (silently as was possible) opened the curtains and shutters. Then he swiftly gathered Arthur's dirty clothes and escaped into the hallway.

As Merlin made his way down the steps and toward the laundry rooms, he considered the source of his heavy heart. He shouldn't have stolen Arthur's key to the vaults and given it to Julius Borden. And he shouldn't have made Arthur lose his trousers in public to do it. He shouldn't have let Borden attack the vault guards – the man might have done them irreparable physical harm, not to mention the professional detriment they surely faced. He shouldn't have ignored Gaius' warning in the first place – he should have thought things through first. And after retrieving the egg, he shouldn't have lied to his best friend … again.

He'd done what he'd done. Kilgarrah was no longer alone. A tiny new dragon had begun it's life in this world. Merlin could hardly regret that. But, as Merlin had long known, a person could feel good and bad about things at the same time. At the moment, his shame for betraying Arthur over the egg was incessantly nagging at him.

A few months before, Merlin might have told himself that he and Arthur were close. But now the lies were adding up. The pretending was taking it's toll. Merlin's agenda did not always agree with the king's, and lately Merlin had to admit that he had been using his position in some ways he would not be proud to acknowledge. He tried to tell himself that Arthur owed him for a thousand secret sacrifices performed on his behalf, but the nobler part of him knew that this was rubbish. A real friend wouldn't be keeping score.

Instead of growing closer, Merlin and his friend were growing apart. It was a fact. Arthur had Gwen, and now spent much of his free time with her instead of finding excuses to waste time bantering with his servant. Arthur had responsibilities: an entire kingdom depended upon him for their lives and livelihoods. The young man knew where he belonged. Arthur had found his place and his mind was turned to his duty more than ever before.

Outside of occasional, self-imposed stealth-bodyguard duties, Merlin's place was apparently scrubbing floors, accepting myriad tedious orders, and doing laundry. There was a huge part of him that had actually grown to appreciate the art of housekeeping, and he had become quite good at it. Awareness of this fact troubled him greatly. Gentleman's gentleman was NOT Merlin's ultimate career goal – but sometimes he found himself almost forgetting this.

Merlin felt the familiar tug of loneliness. He was completely tired of feeling that way. It churned his stomach. It was surprisingly similar to the sensation of fear.

"What if it goes on like this forever? Or what if this is the best it will ever be? Arthur could find out tomorrow and toss me out on my ear – or worse. What if he never forgives me? Or what if it goes on like this an he never knows?"

This was becoming one of those bad days when his thinking got too intense. He saw it coming and did the only thing he had learned would help to lighten his burden.

He flirted with the laundry girls.


	4. Episode 5: His Father's Son

**_Author's Note:_**

_I'm not completely satisfied with this one, but I'm publishing it anyway. I loved Queen Annis._

_Part of the problem might be that the episode was so COMPLETELY AWESOME! What can I say after that? It was everything I've ever imagined the show could be. They took the program to a new high. Nothing was simple. Nobody had all the answers. People were good and bad and trying, just like life. The characters and acting were superb. The writing was gorgeous. Not to mention that it looked beautiful too. So please forgive me for not writing more. Maybe I'm too happy. They say you need to suffer to be a great writer, and S4 E5 did not leave me suffering. I was way too busy cheering._

_-Mrs. Bonner_

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><p><strong>Mornings After - Series 4 Episode 5: His Father's Son<strong>

During the long ride home, Queen Annis had time to reflect.

Carleon was dead, and it was a sorrow in her heart, but she recognized that he had at least in part brought his death upon himself. She had warned him that his attempts to take land and plunder in Camelot were unwise, but, as often was the case, he had exercised his prerogative to disregard her advice. He usually had done as he alone wished. This time that proclivity had sadly cost him everything. She knew she would miss him. Their years of marriage had not been a ballad-worthy romance, but he had always treated her well, and she had grown to depend upon him. Perhaps she had loved him in her own way.

She had lost her burning anger. When the young King Arthur had boldly appeared to parlay with her, she had not forseen his contrition. When she had watched him fight, she had been troubled by his youth. She found that the motherly matron in her had no wish to see this surprising young man fall by the sword.

Arthur's desire to resolve things honorably had aroused Annis' compunction at allowing the witch Morgana to interfere in the match. It had been a rash and unwise decision, and she had questioned it even as she watched the combat begin. Cheating carried no pride. Annis ultimately had been relieved at the outcome, and had not cried foul when magic was used so obviously in the young king's defense. It did not make her doubt his integrity. Indeed, for a moment the lad had looked as surprised as anyone else.

Queen Annis had marched to battle with a great host. Who could have foreseen that they would return home without one man lost? No children would grieve over fathers tonight. No wives but she would mourn slain husbands. Perhaps they had witnessed a miracle. It boded well. She prayed that in the days and years to come, as so much would depend upon her admittedly limited wisdom, she might see many more such wonders in the name of peace.


	5. Episode 6: A servant of Two Masters

Merlin woke slowly. It was good to be home, waking up in his bed. It was still dark, and he'd have to get up soon, but not yet. He pulled the blanket tightly around himself and closed his eyes again, the events of the last few days still heavy on his mind.

He couldn't shake the memory of Morgana's hand on his heart. He'd known so much of her wrath. Now her momentary gentleness had summoned a thousand buried memories of the proud, beautiful lady who had once trusted him. He recalled a time long past when he had thought of her as his "impossible love".

They had been friends once. Like everyone else, he'd appreciated her beauty and enjoyed her clever haughtiness. But when Mordred had stumbled into Camelot, Morgana had come to Merlin for help. They'd acted as equals then – for a little while. And when Merlin's village needed rescue, Morgana had insisted on being there for him in return.

But in her time of greatest need, Merlin had fallen far short, and he knew this. He now relived the cold day when Morgana had come to Gaius' chambers in desperate need of help – in need of truth. He'd seen clearly his choice then. He could have confided in her. Indeed, he could have embraced her. Both of those things had been urgently needed. He had given neither. And his poor attempt at helping her find the Druids had been a disaster that had left her perhaps forever wounded.

Why had he not made a different choice? He had gone over this a thousand times in the years since. The conclusion was always the same. He hadn't been sure he could trust her, and it was Arthur's destiny – not his own – that hung in the balance. Perhaps he had sensed even then that, much as he loved her, she could be weak. She was equally prone to sudden kindness and sudden anger. She was capable of revenge. He'd seen it played out in a hundred little Pendragon family dramas. Little wars had been fought over dinners and dresses and dropped words. He'd known her well. He'd loved her for all of it. But he'd known from his depths that he mustn't tell her what he knew and what he was. He'd done the right thing. And every day he carried the regret of it.

A new question occurred to him. Why had he lingered so long in her "hovel"? He had been waiting for a moment to escape without using obvious magic, but she had not left him alone. Had he wanted to stay? Had he been enjoying sparring with her? Had it felt good just to rest his eyes on her still beautiful face? Had he been intrigued at watching her use her new command of powerful magic? Had he felt sorry for her – so lonely that she had begun to look to creatures of darkness for companionship? Had he hoped she would put her hands on him again? Morgana had struck suddenly with the snake's head, and he hadn't expected to be out of options so quickly.

His mind kept going back to the moment of her healing. The feeling of her magic had been incredible. It had been surprisingly full of goodness. His pain had been gone in an instant, and new energy had flooded through him. And because of this, he knew that though a darkness had taken hold of her, it had not driven out all of her beautiful light.

Merlin allowed himself to think of the feel of her hand for a last moment, and then got out of bed.

It was time to get Arthur's breakfast, and then he was expected to attend an in-depth all-day seminar on laundry with George. Merlin found he could certainly sympathise with Morgana about her penchant for revenge. Perhaps breakfast was a dish that was best served cold?


	6. Episode 7: The Secret Sharer

**Author's Note: Wow, this season has been GREAT so far! Here's my latest reaction. I know I skipped a couple of episodes, but I will get to them eventually... Please review, and share your reactions to the episodes if you wish. I sure enjoy hearing what people think - not only of my writing, but of the episodes themselves. Cheers!**

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><p>Gwaine woke up with a headache. He hadn't slept well. Too much on his mind.<p>

Gwaine was not what you might call the "sharpest knife in the drawer". He would usually be the first to admit this fact. He was even perverse enough to be slightly proud of it.

But not today. Because yesterday Agravaine had out-thought him, and he knew it.

Something about Agravaine's winning smiles and warm courtesy had always rubbed Gwaine the wrong way – but only when he wasn't in the same room with the charismatic man.

"A gentleman is what a gentleman does,", his mother had always told him. If you separated the words from _actions..._ the king's favorite advisor didn't look so good.

But what troubled Gwaine most was the fact that Agravaine had quite easily persuaded him to leave Merlin alone in a dangerous place. Looking back, it completely confused him. How had the man done that?

In all honesty, it was a bit more than confusing. It was downright frightening.

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><p>Gaius head hurt for a completely different reason, and he decided he deserved at least one day in bed. He wove in and out of sleep almost seamlessly, but his thoughts and dreams were unusually heavy.<p>

The thing that weighed upon his heart was the image of Arthur hiding behind the throne. He first dreamed it differently – was it a memory perhaps? _Arthur was eight years old. He had been told to report to the school room for lessons, but had decided, in a streak of defiance, to disappear. Hours later Gaius spied the lad hiding behind his father's throne in the council room – looking rather dirty and a bit proud of himself._ As this dream faded, Gaius amusement shifted to pain as he remembered how Arthur had kept to the shadows behind the throne and allowed that snake Agravaine to interrogate and defame him. The wound was still fresh, and it hurt quite a lot.

But Gaius was an old man. He had long known that sometimes the people we love will hurt us. Indeed, they can do it far more handily than any stranger. He knew the medicine for this injury, and he applied it with a well practiced hand. Two decades with Uther had given him ample opportunity to learn well what it takes.

He forgave.

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><p>Merlin was not happy. He was still upset with Arthur for choosing to trust Agravaine over himself and Gaius both in one shameful moment. He was smarting, in fact. His eyes stung slightly, his throat was tight, and he felt remotely like vomiting.<p>

Merlin was overtired, and he knew this was making everything else seem worse. But was he home sleeping? No. He was in the washing rooms, up to his elbows in soap and water, doing Arthur's laundry. It was completely unfair.

Merlin was beginning to hate Agravaine. Arthur could not see the man for what he was, and it was putting him in considerable danger. No one else had ever been so deft at separating Arthur from his protection, nor at leading him into trouble.

What made Agravaine so appealing to Arthur? The man was certainly persuasive. He was subtle. His tongue dripped with honey and he always knew exactly what to say. He seemed utterly sincere. Something about him seemed to say "here is an honest and kind man, and you should do what it takes to win his approval". He was a master of almost imperceptible manipulation. Manipulation that worked, at times, even on Merlin.

Agravaine reminded Merlin of a sorcerer he'd once read about: A white-robed magician had once enchanted his voice so that even when he stood at the top of a besieged tower he could speak and his enemies below would do his bidding. Merlin sensed no such enchantment at work in Arthur's uncle, but the man's powers were undeniably similar.

Merlin reflected with rage at how easily he'd been duped into spending a night sharpening a new blade (the non-magical way, no less) for Arthur, while Agravaine had invaded his home, stolen his surrogate father, and driven a wedge between Arthur and his best friends. He felt angry at himself for falling for the ruse, and furious at Agravaine. Merlin had dealt with snakes before, and was beginning to relish the memory of slicing off their ugly reptilian heads.

But in this whole deplorable situation, it was Arthur who had the most to lose, royal imbecile that he was. Merlin had respected Arthur's wisdom at many times in the past, but now found he could not do so. This was at the real heart of Merlin's frustration. What was making Arthur so weak-minded?

Then Merlin thought of something, and his anger immediately and utterly deflated. It was suddenly so obvious. Why hadn't he seen it? Arthur had just lost his father and was now looking for his mother.

Merlin's ire suddenly vanished and compassion took it's place. It made perfect sense and he knew it was true the moment the thought came to him. He completely understood.

Even now that snake Agravaine, sensing weakness, was seeking to undermine his nephew at every opportunity.

Merlin looked around. The laundry girls were elsewhere – probably driven off by his unusually fowl temperament. He decided to stop wasting time with this nonsense. He whispered a spell and Arthur's washing suddenly dried and folded itself into a perfect stack of fresh, clean clothes. He tucked them under his arm and ran for the door.

Time to see what Arthur was up to. The king had been alone long enough.


	7. Episode 8: Lamia

"A face that smug has no place in my kitchen," said cook. Merlin, who had thought he was alone, jumped nearly out of his boots. And she was right: Merlin had been looking smug. "What have you done? I know you're not as innocent as you play at. Out with it."

"Nothing," lied Merlin, trying to look innocent, while keeping a wary eye on Cook's oversized weapon/ladle. (He'd received a sudden whacking from it on more than one occasion.) Cook was fast, and she could smell lies quicker than anyone he'd ever met. With her, escape was always a better plan than negotiation.

"Would you mind telling me what you're doing there by George's tray?"

Merlin did mind. And lies were useless. "Yes," he said.

"Yes what?" asked Cook, taking a menacing step forward.

Merlin grabbed the food-laden tray that George was expected to be delivering to Lord Agravaine.

"Yes, I would mind," he said, and ran for the door, trying to avoid the ladle without tipping the tray.

"Thief! That's for George! You're stealing!" The ladle made smart contact with his backside.

"Ow! I'm not stealing! I'm helping! Ow!"

Merlin, as a result of long practice, was much faster than Cook at running from trouble. Therefore, he prevailed at escaping. And because Cook never pursued anyone up the stairs, he was soon out of danger. The smug look soon returned to his face.

It wasn't the food he'd been enchanting. It was the tray. George's tray.

It had been a stressful week. Being attacked by a snake-girl had been a bit harrowing. Being teased for letting Gwen take a whack at her/it was irritating. And the fact that the Lamia had only wanted to kiss the guys in chain-mail had been downright insulting. It was time for a little harmless fun.

George thought himself so funny. And he was not. It was time to help the poor man out.

Just then, George came round the corner toward the kitchen stairs.

"Good morning, Merlin! How is your stain removal coming along? I bet now you could take the spots off of a leopard!" He considered this a joke and expected a reaction – forcing Merlin to pretend to laugh. (The man had no idea, of course, that Merlin really could take the spots off of a leopard.) George was so nice. And so perfectly dressed. And so cheerful. And so clueless.

"O yes, great progress, thanks," said Merlin.

"Is that my tray?"

"Yes, it is," said Merlin with a genuine – however devious – smile . "I was just in the kitchen and I thought I'd bring it up for you. Save you a trip, eh?"

"Well that is incredibly thoughtful of you!" George took the tray, nodded courteously, and turned toward Agravaine's suite.

Merlin had placed a permanent enchantment on George's tray. Any words spoken while serving food from it would be found immediately and irresistibly hilarious.

Merlin was _helping_. This was a good turn he was doing for George. And Lord Agravaine was about to – quite literally – nearly die laughing.


	8. Episode 9: Lancelot du Lac

**Mornings After – Episode 9: Lancelot du Lac**

Guinevere walked. She left the lower town and followed the main road east. There had been rain in the night, and it began to fall again, but by some miracle the road remained firm beneath her feet and the wheels of her cart. She wore her hood and kept her eyes on the road. She did not meet the faces of the many people who passed by.

In the times of most terrible grief there is a part of the mind that feels nothing. It remains observant and practical. In despair it demands the necessary functions of the body. In the midst of tears it suggests finding a handkerchief. It requires the most tormented of souls to consider food and sleep and warmth. It is a peculiarity, an irritation, and perhaps also a divine blessing. For it refuses to allow one to die easily of a broken heart.

After several miles Guinevere grew tired. She sat down on a rock to rest. New tears stung her eyes while her unfeeling mind babbled. It was her wedding day, she thought. And she did not know where she was going.

"Lady Gwen?"

Gwen looked up into the face of a farmer. He was out of context and she looked at him until recognition finally came to her. "You are William," she finally said.

He smiled and gave a handsome little bow. "The farmer, not the jousting champion – but then you'd know that better than anyone, wouldn't you?" William drew near, his face poorly masking his concern. "Lady, what can you be doing here? Is it not your wedding day? We were walking to Camelot to celebrate your joy." Guinevere noticed a lovely, slightly pregnant-looking young woman at his side.

Gwen could think of no words for him.

William knelt in the mud before her and met her downcast eyes. "Lady, it seems that destiny has brought an old friend to you on the road today. I can see you are in some sort of trouble. Will you let us offer you whatever comfort we can?"

Guinevere could not think of an answer, but William waited for none. He took Guinevere's hand and placed it into the young woman's. "This is Eliza," he said simply. Then he took Guinevere's cart and began to pull, quickly leaving the main road for a narrower one that led toward the sheltering woods near the river. Eliza held on gently to Guinevere's hand and led her almost-queen behind the farmer and the cart.

Guinevere allowed herself to follow. A powerful balm is kindness. The practical part of her mind recognized that her most immediate needs were going to be met, regardless of her piteously broken heart. At last, for a merciful little while, it quieted.

_Author's Note: William has his own short story – "Courage: the Tale of Sir William of Deira". Feel free to find it via my profile. (It's quite a lovely story, if I do say so myself. And if you read it you'll understand who Eliza is, too.) _


	9. Episode 9 Part 2: Unescorted

**Unescorted**

The banished must always leave unescorted.

It is meant to be a mercy.

One departs alone, untraceable, keeping one's own councils.

No king will follow and punish in secret.

It is also the harshest of penalties.

The worst of all, perhaps worse than death,

For it means no protection.

The arms of the king offer no more shield.

But to banish a lady, taking no pains for her safe journey –

This is a grievous thing indeed.

In heartbreak, a decision had been made without sufficient thought.

By the first sunset, the ire of the king was tempered with regret.


	10. Episode 11: The Hunter's Heart

**Mornings After: S4 E11 _The Hunter's Heart _**

Mithian woke before dawn in her tent. Wrapped in furs, she was comfortable in body, but aching in mind.

Sometimes life can be unfair. Mithian knew this. She knew that sometimes, despite one's best plans and best behavior, destiny can bring broken hopes. The princess had faith in destiny. But that faith would not shield her from the humiliation she would face as a publicly rejected bride. It would likewise not spare her having to sort out a newly complicated and quite uncertain future, nor a less than enthusiastic welcome home by her father, stepmother, older brother and sister-in-law. But the thing that took the most faith for the princess was to believe that there could be a purpose for her pitifully broken heart.

Her mind insisted that no one can fall in love in four days. That was impossible. But her mind was quite obviously wrong.

Sometimes the moment you meet someone you love him. Once in a great while you know almost all you need to know about a person without his saying a word. It sounds impossible, and would be a thing foolish to seek, but it does happen. Mithian had begun to love Arthur when she first saw him waiting nervously on the steps as she rode into Camelot. Thinking, as she had, that she was about to marry him, this had all seemed more than fortunate. The princess was too young to understand that sometimes we love swiftly so that, when time is short, no moments of joy or consequence will be lost.

When Arthur had told her she must return home it had hurt terribly. For the first few hours she had at least the comfort of her indignation. But his confession to her on the steps had dissolved even her justifiable anger into something else.

As she'd stood looking for the last time at this golden, secretly heartbroken, heavily burdened young man, she understood him perfectly. She sensed his deep regret for injuring her and how much it pained him. How surprising it was to find herself, even in that terrible moment, completely forgiving him.

The sun rose and the girl got up. It was time to go home.

Princess Mithian thought for many long days and months about King Arthur. She did not stop loving him. She was changed by knowing him. She could not know that this had been Destiny's plan for her all along.

A great adventure laid ahead for the unknowing princess – one that involved the Land of Gedref and unicorns and a man who, unlike Arthur, was not at all easy to love.

...But that is another story.


	11. E13  Sword in the Stone part 2

(Warning, S4 conclusion spoilers.)

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><p>Merlin woke up before sunrise. He had work to do. He <em>could<em> have slept in on this day and every day hereafter if he'd bothered to reveal that he has magic to King Arthur. But Merlin decided to keep it a secret AGAIN, so he had to get up early. And he would get to do laundry and shine armour and muck out stables and warm bath water and put up with George and get up before dawn every day for the next nine months. And I say, that's fair play to him. He deserves to do menial labor for the next 9 or so months, since he didn't bother to reveal anything!

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><p>Author's Note:<p>

No reveal. GGGGAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

And Morgana doesn't know either. So aren't we pretty much back where we were at the end of S3? Lance and Uther are dead and Morgana has a new reptilian friend. That's pretty much it. Nice for Morgana – she doesn't even need to go find herself a new hovel.

Arthur decided to get over it, then he got mad again, then he aparently got over it. I thought he had actually been OVER it. Didn't he say something to Princess Mithian about the kingdom being worth nothing to him without the blacksmith's daughter? Maybe he was just really turned off by Mithian belching at the picnic, and the broken heart thing was just to convince Mithian "It's not you. It's me." Good acting on the angst stuff. But I wanted to slap him, because what was the point of E11 if he wasn't really over it?

Agravaine didn't get to stab Morgana in the back. She sent him to find Arthur, and that was the last he ever saw of her. I totally wanted him to be faking his death so that he could get in Morgana's way when she didn't love him back. No closure for uncle Agravaine. Bye Mr. Parker. You were AWESOME. Maybe he did fake his death, and then went to live at Queen Annas' castle. And had many slightly tormented adventures.

Seriously, Agravaine and Cenred and Nimue should do lunch together.

It's been such a fun fall, and overall, S4 rocked.

I'm exhausted. Good night. Time to return focus to real life. Happy holidays!


End file.
